By Rob Gerhardt
DEC 19-JAN 20 | Field Notes
I had just stepped out of the subway station when my cell phone rang. It was my father. I saw on the news that there are protesters gathering in Manhattan. Be careful getting home. OK, Dad. Thanks for letting me know. Ill be careful. I put my phone back in my pocket, reached for my cameras and felt the weight of them on my neck as I slipped their straps over my head. I adjusted my camera bag on my hip, turned the collar up on my old green army jacket, and took a deep breath as I faced the mass of protesters in front of me who had gathered in the chilly night air at Union Square.
By Anne-Laure Zevi
JUL-AUG 2020 | Critics Page
Impatient, she walks out of the bus in between stops and continues to the auction house by foot. At the main entrance, she follows the person in front of her through the revolving door and pursues her path upstairs. From the staircase, she hears the harangues of the auctioneers: 18,000, 19,000, do I hear one more?; Lot 94, Aube, oil on canvas by Henri Jeanennet, starting bid at 5,000.